


Then Shawarma After

by mountain_born



Series: The Marvelous Tale of an Agent, an Archer, and an Assassin [33]
Category: Doctor Who (2005), Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover, Doctor Who/Avengers Crossover Fusion, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-05
Updated: 2015-12-05
Packaged: 2018-05-05 02:34:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5357729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mountain_born/pseuds/mountain_born
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The battle’s been won, the world has been saved, and Fury has some important news for the Avengers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Then Shawarma After

**Author's Note:**

> *tosses roses at **like-a-raven**. Thanks and kudos once again! 
> 
> The long strange trip continues! This is just a small little bridge leading into Phase 3. Things are slowing down a bit due to the impending holiday season and all that that entails, but there's still much more to come.

_April 2012_

Under ordinary circumstances, Fury would be worried about some of his people going incommunicado in the wake of a pitched battle.

These were not ordinary circumstances though, and the people in question definitely weren’t ordinary SHIELD personnel. And, ultimately, they weren’t that hard to track down. The little shawarma restaurant might be easy to overlook, especially in the mess that was currently Midtown, but the TARDIS parked outside was a dead giveaway.

Fury paused in the open doorway. Here the aroma of roasted meat and French fries momentarily overshadowed the odor of smoke and gasoline and dead aliens. Every table in the small space had been shoved together in the center of the room, and the crew that was sitting around it was very motley indeed.

_The Avengers. The heroes of New York._ Those titles were already being bandied about. _Let’s hear it for live, up-to-the-nanosecond media coverage._ Fury had always imagined that his little crisis response team, once it came to fruition, would operate safely (and obediently) in SHIELD’s shadow. Sure, it was bound to garner _some_ attention. Hell, Tony Stark didn’t know the meaning of _under the radar._ But Fury had never imagined that the members of the Avengers Initiative might, in the course of one afternoon, effectively become worldwide folk heroes. 

It looked like that was what was starting to happen though, and maybe it was better that way.

Right now the heroes seemed to have settled into various stages of post-battle recharge mode, from Thor who was enthusiastically chowing down on his sandwich to Rogers who looked like he’d fallen asleep sitting up. Rogers aside, everyone was silently focused on eating, even the Doctor, who had an impressively large napkin tucked into the collar of his shirt. 

Fury’s good eye settled on his two agents, assessing them for damage. Song didn’t look too bad except for all of the blood in her hair. Scalp injury: messy, but probably superficial. She didn’t seem concerned by it. All of her attention was on her partner. Barton was cut and scraped to hell, and his left foot was propped up on Song’s chair. His sandwich basket rested in his lap and he was eating slowly and mechanically. Fury was willing to bet that he was only eating at all because Song had her eye on him.

They both looked beat. Fury was glad that he was able to come here bearing some good news for them.

A man in a white apron, sweeping up behind the counter, caught sight of Fury. “Can I help you, sir?”

The Avengers collectively turned their heads to see who else was crazy enough to go out for shawarma today. Song and Barton sat up a little straighter at the sight of Fury. Rogers blinked his way back to wakefulness with a jolt, and started to get up.

“As you were,” Fury said. If ever a group of people had earned the right to take a load off, it was these guys. “I just wanted to offer my congratulations on a job very well done.”

“Yeah, no thanks to the World Security Council’s version of help,” Stark said, reaching for his soda. “Pull up a chair, Nick. Join us.”

“I’m afraid I can’t stay long,” Fury replied. “The battle’s over, but we have a long clean-up ahead.” The fallout from this attack on the city was going to be measured in years, and the first wave (dealing with dead aliens and their tech) was going to be intense. “Speaking of which, I believe you took a prisoner into custody? Where is he?”

He wouldn’t have put it past Stark and Rogers to have chained Loki to a pipe in the men’s room, but somehow Fury doubted they’d actually gone that route.

Stark just nodded his head at the Doctor as he took a long pull on his straw.

“Loki’s in the TARDIS,” the Doctor supplied. “She actually has a prison deck. It hasn’t been used in centuries, but it’s secure.”

“Yeah, we left him sleeping off quite the headache courtesy of Bruce, here,” Amy added, reaching over and patting Banner’s back. Fury thought he actually saw a small, pleased smile cross the man’s face.

“We’ll want to move him into holding at SHIELD headquarters as soon as possible, until we decide on the best way to deal with him,” Fury said, mostly to Thor. 

Thor nodded in agreement, but added, “I know that Loki has much to answer for on your world, and we would not wish to deny you justice. But he will be much more safely contained on Asgard.”

“I’ll take that under advisement.” 

Fury had already had the same thought. The World Security Council would scream to high heaven, but Fury mostly just wanted Loki the hell off of Earth. He had caused them all enough trouble. Some of them more than others.

“Barton,” Fury said. He saw Barton stiffen uncomfortably and set his jaw before he looked up, and Fury deliberately went on in a slightly less authoritative tone. “I didn’t get a chance to say it before, but it’s good to have you back.”

“Thanks, sir.”

Barton’s tone seemed to suggest that he doubted his boss’s sincerity. They’d have to work on that. It was true that Barton was in for some intense debriefings and the Psych evaluations were going to be the stuff of legend. But Fury was not going to allow anyone, even Barton himself, to hold him responsible for what had happened. He’d been captured and compromised, full stop.

At least there was one thing Fury could remove from Barton’s conscience. 

“I came here because I wanted to personally inform all of you,” Fury said, “that Agent Coulson is alive. He’s still in serious condition, but he’s out of surgery and his doctors say he’s as stable as can be expected.”

It wasn’t every day Fury was able to make nine people gape in unison. Even the Doctor’s mouth was hanging open. It wasn’t really a shock that Tony Stark was the first one to find his voice again. 

“I’m sorry, what? You told us he was--”

“I needed you all focused and working together,” Fury said. “Telling you that Coulson was dead was a means to that end. He _was_ very badly hurt, beyond what Medical thought they should try to handle with compromised facilities on the Helicarrier. We had him air evac-ed to a hospital here in the city.” Fury made a wry face. “If I’d had any idea that Manhattan was hours away from becoming Ground Zero for an invasion I would have ordered him to be taken on to SHIELD HQ, but they were afraid that he wouldn’t make it that far. The point is that he’s alive. He’s not out of the woods yet, but he’s already beaten some serious odds.”

Yes, lying to them had been a shitty thing to do. It had been necessary and it might just have saved the world, but it had been a shitty thing to do. Fury was well aware of that. Making Barton and Song, especially, believe that Coulson was dead put him firmly in _heartless son of a bitch_ territory. 

So, even as Song’s fist slammed into his nose knocking him backwards onto his ass, Fury knew that he wasn’t going to write her up for slugging him in the face.

Fury clamped his hand over his nose, feeling blood well between his fingers. He heard a faintly awed _“Damn,”_ from Stark. Song was standing over him with her fists clenched. Barton had staggered to his feet and grabbed her arm, though whether it was to hold her back or keep himself from falling over wasn’t really clear.

“Which hospital?” Song asked.

“Mount Sinai,” Fury replied, picking himself up off of the floor.

Song looked at Barton who just nodded, then turned to the others who were now all standing around the table to better see the show.

“We need to go,” she said.

“We’ll take you,” the Doctor said, pulling that ridiculous napkin out of his collar. “Neither one of you can walk that far right now, and you’ll certainly never get a cab. We’ll just pop over in the TARDIS. Nick, we’ll arrange for prisoner transfer later.”

Amy and Rory were already shepherding the two agents toward the door. The Doctor brought up the rear, turning and walking backwards for a few steps on his way out.

“Oh, and you probably ought to get some ice on that,” he added, pinching the bridge of his own nose and pointing at Fury.

Then they were gone. Fury heard the sound of the TARDIS starting up and a few startled shouts, no doubt as it disappeared into thin air. He turned his attention back to the remaining members of the Avengers Initiative. Rogers and Stark were glaring at him, Thor looked nonplussed, and Banner just silently passed him a handful of napkins. 

“Do you have ice?” Fury ask the shop’s proprietor. The man nodded and fished up a ziplock bag that he started to fill from the freezer. “And a Number #2 combo, so long as the kitchen’s working.”

God alone knew when he’d next get a break to eat. Though maybe, Fury thought, given that Rogers and Stark were still looking at him like a pair of very pissy bookends, he wouldn’t join the little dinner party.

“Make that to go, please.”


End file.
